


Lieweaver

by ellarree



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Angst, Book 04: Rhythm of War, Createcember 2020, Gen, Multiple Personalities, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27871606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellarree/pseuds/ellarree
Summary: Drabble for day three of my createcember challenge! Prompt: Radiance
Kudos: 3





	Lieweaver

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble for day three of my createcember challenge! Prompt: Radiance

Shallan huddles in the center of her room, drained spheres littering the floor. Creationspren line the edges of the small space, terrified by her failure. Far away _(and yet, in the same place)_ two Cryptics and two Lightweavers converse. All four of these are Shallan's. Her swords and her minds, both trapped away and within her, useless to help. Three are dead, the last is dying, and Shallan is broken again. The four could not hold her together against her past _(did we even try?)_ and Shallan is still breathing.

 _(Why is she breathing? Stormlight runs in rivulets down her skin and yet she is breathing. This is wrong. This is wrong, why is the Light not sustaining her?)_ Pattern-shape murmurs a retort in that odd, melodic tone of his, but it is all wrong. His head droops, identical and contrasting to Testament-husk's own hollowed shell and tangled coils. Veil _(no, Veil died long ago with Testament)_ is no help. Shallan does not need help, Shallan is a Radiant!

_(Shallan... Shallan is not Radiant. Shallan is broken.)_

The creationspren crawl towards the door, barely more than a few tattered strips of canvas. Pattern sat there, once, giving form to that sad excuse of a boundary. He will be no help now. Why would the bright, inspired spren of creativity be drawn to Shallan? Her art is not in her anymore _(was it ever_ her _art? did it not come from her bond, from me?)_ and her muses are all left out for the storm.

_(there are no storms to renew Light in Shadesmar.)_

A cryptic falls to the ground, slipping into the endless sea of glimmering glass beads as the last ties of her _(his? i cannot tell them apart anymore!)_ bond to Shallan tear apart. Among the dun spheres littering the floor, a gleaming yet somehow dull Shardblade forms, scarcely more than a dagger. Where other Blades might have a gemstone at the pommel, this new death leaves only a hint of condensation. Shallan does not glow with Stormlight anymore; her hair turns a dull black and her eyes lose their pale blue color. The vibrant blue of her havah bleeds to a misty white, dye puddling on the floor around her.

_(why is this happening this is all wrong why is it a lie...)_

The other Cryptic melts into an odd crystalline form, headstrands fusing together into one solid block _(no no no not a block. a façade. a_ lie _like the Liespren they truly are)_ and then Shallan is gone—

* * *

Radiant kneels on the floor, surrounded by dun spheres. The hem of her havah is stained a mottled red. Next to her, a tall spren turns and seems somehow smaller from this side. _(why am i here where is Sha—)_

"Strength before weakness, little Lieweaver. Surely you can see the value in your own Ideals?"

Creationspren spring into being around Radiant, geometric squiggles rearranging into the shape of armor. She knows what she must say, and unlike Shallan, she will be strong enough to speak this Truth: "I am not your Knight. I am better. I am Radiant."

The strange spren nods, still elegant and controlled.

**"These words are accepted."**


End file.
